


Reveal It By Hiding

by dedougal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Prom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 20:11:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek isn't supposed to be at prom. Just as well Lydia wants her friends to be happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reveal It By Hiding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oddishly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddishly/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, ODDISHLY! You are the nicest and loveliest and I hope you enjoy your day!

Derek should have guessed Lydia would get her way with Prom. She had become quite adept at using her returned popularity and her notoriety to get her way. Derek tended to sit back and goggle as someone with no supernatural powers wrangled them all into watching, doing and possibly even thinking exactly what Miss Lydia Martin wanted them to. Even himself.

Which was why he was in a tuxedo and wearing a stupid too tight, too hot wolf mask. It was some kind of ridiculous joke and Derek was pretty sure it was on him.

Lots of the girls had older boyfriends, Lydia had told him, handing over the mask. But he was still suffering a little from the dent his reputation had taken after his last arrest, the one where the Sheriff had finally found out about werewolves. So, masked ball it was. She obviously didn’t explain that to the ball committee, but everyone was soon going along with the whole theme, enthusiastically is not whole-heartedly. It was cool, being in disguise like this.

The cloud of perfume, cologne and hairspray was almost overwhelming to his senses. It was ridiculous enough that he was here, but now he couldn't even use his senses to pick out the members of his pack who were dancing or chatting or making out in the shadows where Derek lurked at the side of the ballroom. There was no way they were having this event in the gym, Lydia had explained. Especially when she wasn't sure the bloodstains from the harpy attack weren't entirely sanded out.

He caught sight of Lydia across the floor. She'd taken her mask off, a gold and lavender confection that had done very little to disguise her identity. Derek's mask covered his entire face and a bit of his hair as well. But he wouldn't have believed he couldn't pick out Isaac or Scott or Stiles. Especially Stiles.

Suddenly, like a shaft of sunlight through the crowd, he heard Stiles laugh and something that had been twisting in his gut smoothed out and settled. He straightened his shoulders and pushed off the wall. The mask took away the need to hide, to not draw attention to himself. So instead he strode across the dance floor towards the knot of people that the laugh came from. He spotted Isaac first - his height and the loose tumble of blonde hair unmistakable. Boyd was nowhere to be seen but Allison was there, and Scott. And if they were there...

Finally he saw Stiles. Lydia had obviously had her perfectly manicured claws into him and Derek had to bite back a laugh. Stiles's mask was red with gold curlicues. He was a mash up of Little Red Riding Hood and some mad traveling fair magician. It suited him.

He noticed a couple of grins from the others as he reached out his hand. They obviously knew who it was. Stiles stared at it in confusion. “I’m seeing someone, dude.”

Derek kept his hand out but didn’t say anything. Now he knew who was Stiles, he could smell the tinge of anger and sadness that had hung around him whenever he’d mentioned prom to Derek. They’d talked about it, in this vague way, when Derek explained how he’d never been to prom, and the last school dance he’d been to had been a week before Kate torched his family and he’d been there half an hour before sneaking off to meet her. Stiles had stopped needling Derek then but that hadn’t stopped Lydia.

Stiles was propelled to his feet by Scott giving him a gentle push. A sharp glare and then he was placing his hand in Derek’s and being led onto the dance floor.

“The wolf mask thing is funny. If my boyfriend was here, he’d probably not find it funny. And he’d definitely not be happy at you dancing with me.” Stiles carried on talking. To anyone ordinary it would have been inaudible but Derek heard every word. In fact, he tended to hear every word Stiles said. Sometimes he just let the sound of Stiles’s voice sweep over him and it made him calm. “My boyfriend’s kinda possessive. And I like it.”

Stiles did. He liked the fact that somewhere on his skin – less pale now he spent a whole lot of time out in the woods or with Derek working on the house and not stuck behind his laptop studying – there would be a hickey, a mark. He’d spent hours trailing his fingers over Derek’s tattoo once, before coming on it, and Derek wondered how Stiles would feel about a tattoo, somewhere, that said ‘property of Derek Hale’ or something. The idea made Derek grin behind the mask.

The DJ switched to a slower song as they reached the fringes of the dancing crowd. Most of it was friends but there were definitely plenty of couples sliding into closer holds. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles’s shoulders, pulling him close. Stiles hesitated before placing his hands on Derek’s hips, feather light. Stiles had a couple of inches on Derek now, even with his hair gelled down. Stiles had crowed about it making Derek the little spoon which Derek had ignored before curling himself into the curve of Stiles’s body, pulling Stiles’s arm across his chest. He slept best like that.

“Take your mask off.” Stiles was glaring. “Take it off now.” The anger in his scent was there, again, alongside something like anticipation.

“Later, Stiles.” Derek spoke so low that only Stiles could hear. “Just dance with me.”

“At prom. With you.” Stiles’s arms wrapped around Derek’s waist at that, pulling him closer. “I should have known it was you.”

“Lydia.” Derek shrugged before settling in. There wasn’t much skill to their dancing. In fact it was an awkward sway with the occasional shuffle. Derek had seen Stiles dance before, at parties in his house or at clubs they’d sneaked into. He knew what he was doing, in theory. This wasn’t supposed to be that kind of dancing. This was about pressing as close to the other person as possible. If they didn’t have these stupid masks on, they’d be making out right now as well.

The song ended but Stiles didn’t seem inclined to move away. Under the bizarre up-tilted nose of his mask, his smile turned a little wicked. The DJ had switched to a faster song, but Stiles wasn’t speeding up. His palms were flat on the back of Derek’s suit coat, dipping lower. 

“You look really grown up,” he muttered, as Stiles slid his hand under the tails of the jacket, pressing warm through the thin shirt. “You look good. You look comfortable in your skin.”

“You’re just killing me with the compliments, man.” Stiles’s didn’t stop his hands though. His fingertips were now skimming the top of his belt, sliding under. “You look hot.”

Derek felt the stir of Stiles’s cock against his hip. Then there was a tap on Stiles’s shoulder. 

“You boys, whilst I wholeheartedly support you and your life choices, shouldn’t be doing that here.” It was the lacrosse coach. Derek was surprised that none of the teenagers affected by the extreme range of supernatural happenings had taken him out. There was always graduation…

“Yes, coach. Sorry, coach.” Stiles stepped back, flourishing his hands to show that they were definitely not touching in any naughty places. 

“Jeez, kid. It’s not like I’m going to tell your father.” The coach stalked off in search of another couple to cause incipient heart attacks.

“Had to mention my dad, didn’t he?” Stiles pulled a face as Derek led him back to the pack. “My father, who expects me home an hour after curfew because that’s what’s supposed to happen on prom night.”

“He doesn’t.” Derek shook Isaac’s hand, clapped Boyd on the shoulder, nodded at Allison. He curled a hand around the back of Scott’s neck. It was dark enough, shadowy, that it would look like nothing more than a group of teenagers being excited and overwhelmed by the whole prom thing. The whole end of school, rite-of-passage, oh my god we survived kind of situation.

Then he ambled towards the exit, Stiles following by his side, abortively opening and closing his mouth. A strangled “What?” finally emerged.

The hotel lobby was a little dated, a little cookie cutter chain, but it was clean and it was mostly empty apart from a few of Stiles’s classmates who were sprawled out in chairs under the watchful eye of the receptionist. The elevator opened instantly and then they were out of sight of the rest of the world.

“What?” Stiles repeated, turning Derek to look at him, even though they were both still wearing ridiculous masks.

Derek pulled out the key card from his pocket and held it up in explanation. Then he coughed a laugh. “Lydia, too.”

“Fuck. We’re so getting her flowers. Or a car.” Stiles’s arm tucked itself around Derek’s waist and he leaned in briefly as the doors opened onto a quiet corridor. “Fuck.”

Derek found his own cock stirring at that.

 

He’d been up here earlier, checking it out, brought up a change of clothes for the morning. Derek had gotten dressed up here too. It seemed like the best way to keep the surprise. He was taken a little by surprise by the way Stiles spun him around and pressed him back against the door, pinning him with his hips, his chest. Derek was momentarily surrounded by Stiles’s scent, need and eagerness spiking through the familiar, welcome, soft smell.

Stiles’s hands were gentle as he removed Derek’s mask and Derek, in turn, removed Stiles’s, hand lingering to brush away the odd patch of glitter, smearing it across Stiles’s cheek instead. When Stiles kissed him, all thoughts of that slid away.

“I like you like this, James Bond.” Stiles ran his hand down the front of Derek’s shirt, smoothing the tie.

“I like to put on sunshades and pretend to be _Reservoir Dogs_ ,” Derek replied, knocking his forehead against Stiles’s. “Without the, uh, smoking.” Stiles’s hands were busy unfastening his belt now, making it hard to think. Derek couldn’t really remember what they were talking about as Stiles’s hand worked its way into his underwear and stroked. He’d admitted once, stupidly, just how much he loved this, being taken apart fully dressed. But that wasn’t what they were going to do tonight.

He walked Stiles backwards towards the bed, shoving at Stiles’s jacket and letting it drop to the floor. It was made difficult by Stiles continuing to kiss and grope and touch and try to get Derek’s clothes off as well. The look of surprise on Stiles’s face when his legs hit the edge of the bed and he bounced down onto the sheets made Derek smile. They’d made out on Stiles’s bed, in his car, in Derek’s car, in Derek’s bed, all over the preserve… But there was something nice about them being here in this room, alone. No interruptions from parents or pack. Just them.

“We are totally a prom night cliché, right now,” Stiles observed, as he efficiently unbuckled Derek’s belt. “Hotel room, check. Sex, check. All we need is booze.”

“I almost bought you a bottle of something,” Derek admitted, tugging Stiles’s tie free. “But I want you sober and conscious and mine.” He snapped his teeth, just a little, to see Stiles laugh.

Then there was no more talking as nakedness and kissing and touching took over everything. They were almost lazily rubbing against each other when Derek reached out and handed Stiles the lube.

“You want me to open myself up?” Stiles said, in between gasps as Derek kissed (and bit) down his neck.

“Nope,” Derek told him, before he went back to mouthing and marking. He was always kinda nervous when he asked for this, asked Stiles to fuck him. It was hard to articulate his needs – in some ways it was good that Stiles was as responsive and as chatty as he was. He was also damn smart. Derek pressed a final kiss to the curve of Stiles’s shoulder to hide his smile.

“You want me to fuck you, right? I would remind you about all the conversations we’ve had about using your words-“ Stiles cut himself off to let Derek roll over, spread his legs wide. “But this is - _fuck_ \- hot.”

Derek tried to relax as Stiles used way too much lube to slick him up. He lazily stroked his cock as Stiles worked him open, made space for himself. Stiles couldn’t hurt him but this was more than that. Stiles wouldn’t hurt him. Derek was suddenly really grateful that he was getting to do this, getting to be here. He’d seen how hurt Stiles had been when they’d talked about it and Derek had said he couldn’t go to prom with them. Stiles had tried to be all understanding and act like it was no big deal. But Derek knew better.

And now he really was going to have to buy Lydia flowers. And chocolate. And probably something big and flashy as well. Because there was no way on earth he was going to miss the way Stiles’s eyes lit up as he looked up the length of Derek’s body, the way he sounded as he slid into Derek, the soft noises he made. Stiles who was loud in all things barely spoke, barely sighed as he let Derek adjust, shallowly thrusting, before Derek ordered him to move. Stiles let out a strangled groan at that before bending to kiss at Derek, missing his mouth to press against his cheek. Stiles’s hand tangled with Derek’s and it didn’t take much more for him to come. Stiles’s thrusts were erratic, his cheeks red and his skin glowing as he came.

They didn’t say much, just lay curled up with each other afterwards.

Stiles couldn’t stay still for long though. Finally he struggled around languidly to look at Derek. He actually had the temerity to giggle. “You know you have glitter on your face, right?”

It was at that point that Derek basically allowed himself to admit that he’d do anything for Stiles. “Yeah.”


End file.
